


Doing the right thing

by majorinconvenience



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Character Death, Cliche, I can't write cool and interesting angst just a warning, I'm so confused about the tags in this one uuuh, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Or not, Pain, Phantom Thief Oma Kokichi, Surprise Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Valentine Exchange Gift, Valentine's Day, Yeah stuff like that, just... trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29581485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorinconvenience/pseuds/majorinconvenience
Summary: Shuichi gasped as if he just realized something important. He remembered all the feelings and emotions the thief made him feel, and it filled his exhausted body with a dying breath of fresh air. Everything hurt, and everything made so much sense.No… this wasn’t right. Nothing was right.
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 65





	Doing the right thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AVeryChaoticWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVeryChaoticWriter/gifts).



> This is my gift for Valentine's exchange, so... 
> 
> HAPPY LATE VALENTINE'S DAY, HINA!!!!
> 
> I'm very happy we got to know each other, you're very a very fun person and your ideas are always the best!! I was thinking about what kind of gift I could write for you and decided to go for what you love and enjoy oh-so-much - angst! that's right!
> 
> Mind you, I'm not good at it at all, and it's probably not the greatest quality angst for someone who has read so much of it, but I tried my best and I did it with looooveee <3 I'll accept any advice from you, feel free to criticize me if you don't enjoy it!
> 
> So! I wish everyone who decides to read this a nice little journey! and I apologize in advance. For what? you decide.

This night was so dark, chilly, and humid that the spring air was filled with the disgusting smell of autumn dirt. The weather forecast promised a heavy rain, but it wouldn’t begin, making the streets empty and still in worried anticipation. A thick fog was coming somewhere from the underground, like from the pits of hell, from those terrifying pictures of cemeteries or horror movies.

Kyoko and Shuichi were already on the working spot. Thanks to the latter’s deduction, they managed to narrow down the exact place where a Phantom Thief would strike next and came prepared, a few hours before the panic would arise and smart escape plans would be made. The police were ready, two groups on a stakeout on the neighboring buildings, in case the thief would try to escape through his usual roof route, and one more down on the street. They were prepared for absolutely everything.

Perfect conditions for catching a long-chased criminal. All thanks to Saihara.

When Kirigiri received a message about the Phantom Thief stealing a full bag of jewelry from the exhibition, she nodded to Shuichi with a determined look in her always serious eyes and gave him a small headset with a microphone. They were standing on top of a relatively low building nearby, backs pressed against the door leading to the staircase. The wind whined and howled in their ears like a broken piano, crawled under their clothes to scratch their skin with its freezing wet claws. Neither of them seemed to care.

“He’s playing big today, for some reason. A lot of things were stolen,” Kyoko muttered, deep in thought. “We have sent some of our people to intercept him, and three more officers are guarding the exit. You must stay close in case the thief finds a shortcut of any kind.”

Her gaze was glued to the floor as if she found an important clue at the tips of her boots, and because of that, her signature confidence felt unusually shaken-up. Saihara couldn’t figure out if it was a simple nervousness – today’s operation cost them so many plans and espresso shots – or something else entirely, something hidden from him and therefore being impossible for him to understand. Ever since they left the office and headed to their destination, Kyoko had rarely spoken up, and her presence was barely noticeable.

So unlike her. But Shuichi wasn’t like himself tonight, either.

In his head, there was another mayhem. His thoughts were running around his panicking mind, suffocating and pushing each other like people in a broken elevator. His heart felt uneasy and too heavy to carry around in his chest, shrunk from anxiety. He kept telling himself that it was fine, that he had finally worked up the courage to do the right thing, had thrown away his stupid unrealistic dreams and selfishness… but nothing _sounded_ right, even if it was. Instead, it felt like he was standing in a morgue filled with corpses, desperately trying to convince himself that those bodies around him were breathing and talking.

What was wrong?...

“We see him!” a muffled shout escaped the walkie-talkie clutched in Kyoko’s hand, and both detectives winced, exchanging looks with each other. “We’re following him to the roof!”

“Understood.” Kirigiri turned to Shuichi and ordered him to take his place with a short nod. “Get ready, Saihara-san.”

Her colleague followed the order and left the rooftop. He wanted to run down the stairs as fast as he could, but his legs suddenly gave away, and he grabbed the railings with a short, panicked gasp, regaining balance. His head was spinning, and his stomach hurt. He was nervous.

_“I don’t want to stay together with you if I have to give up who I truly am.”_

It was too late to back down now. Shuichi had been waiting for this moment for so long. He had to endure so much. Being misled, stressed out, having to lie to the police, to his colleague and mentor, dealing with all those intense, new feelings that he never needed.

It was a ride, but his only goal had always been the same.

To catch the thief.

Shuichi shrugged off his confusion and proceeded to run down the stairs. It was dark in the building, and he could hear the screaming sirens outside; somewhere from afar, panicked shouting and ruckus reached his ears – it seemed like people had started leaving the building where the crime took place. He didn’t have much time.

Saihara ran outside. His earphone made a short, slightly irritating sound.

“Saihara-san,” Kirigiri sounded tenser. “They were chasing the wrong guy.”

“Huh?”

_Used his organization members again,_ Shuichi realized, annoyed. Smart, but too easy. Especially for the detective who knew him a little too well.

“The other group found another copycat,” his colleague continued. “He’s trying to distract us. We don’t know how many of them there are yet.”

Without thinking, following his gut instinct, Shuichi ran towards the building that was nearest to the exhibition. It was an ordinary apartment complex with its first floor occupied by shops and offices. _Would be easy to blend in._ A lot of offices were already empty at such a late hour. If only there was a way to pass through the shops and…

Kirigiri kept talking, probably about their next plan, but Shuichi wasn’t listening anymore. He remembered one of his night walks with the thief, the one when they broke into a tall building to reach the rooftop pool. They found an emergency exit and– 

_Right. Emergency exit._

It didn’t take him long to find it. The least noticeable door amongst colorful shopwindows. Shuichi ran right towards it, pulled the handle. The lock on the door had already been broken, so it opened easily.

Jackpot.

“Saihara-san, are you listening?”

Shuichi’s breath hitched as he saw fresh wet footprints leading up the stairs.

“Saihara?”

“Don’t worry, Kirigiri-san, I’m following him!” he managed to concentrate and breathe out an answer. “Unless it’s another copycat, the Phantom Thief is in the building right next to the exhibition, the one with shops and offices on the first floor.”

He heard Kirigiri’s relieved sigh on the other side.

“Good. We shall move to the nearest rooftop, then. Let me know when you need a backup.”

“Understood!”

Kirigiri cut off.

Shuichi launched up the stairs, glaring at the familiar footprints on his way. The earphone kept bouncing on him, dangerously close to falling off completely; his heart was bouncing just as crazily, also ready to drop. Blood pulsated in his ears, his vision would get blurry from time to time, but he kept running, and the staircase felt endless.

_I’m gonna catch him now,_ he thought, panting, _and everything will be back to normal. I’ll prove him wrong. I’ll show him the truth. He’ll learn from his mistakes. And then…_

His racing heart shattered his lungs, and it got too hard to breathe. Saihara had to slow down, grabbing onto the railings as if he were falling off the stairs.

And then…

Then what?

_“I thought you wanted to understand me.”_

_“How can I understand someone who doesn’t want to be understood?!”_

He nervously swallowed a lump in his throat, looked up. Only a few flights were left. His legs started shaking – not from the physical exhaustion, rather because of anxiety building up in his whole body, eating him from the inside like a fatal disease. Shuichi tried to stop his insane hurricane of thoughts, to take a look inside his worried soul: something was wrong, _terribly wrong_.

_It’s alright, it’s understandable,_ he reassured himself. He was going to end an entire chapter of his life, finish this crazy story about the legendary Phantom Thief who could fool even Kirigiri, the best detective of Japan, but fell right into his arms. The criminal he had been chasing for so long, the one who would always wait for him on his rooftop to stargaze or play some idiotic games, drop his mask and blind him the most adorable, childish, mischievous smile, enamor him with his big charming purple eyes, fluster him with his playful but gentle touch.

_“Why do you keep lying to me? Aren’t we close enough for you to stop doing that?!”_

_“We’re close enough? Close enough for me to stop being who I am?”_

The nights they spent together, failing to pretend to be the criminal and the detective, melting in each other’s embrace and drowning in each other’s caring voices, laughing, kissing, running around the sleeping city like two naughty little kids, staring at each other, praying that every night would last forever, longer, longer…

All of it… was going to end.

_“…So it’s not enough for you, huh? What else do you even need? I told you so many times, I– We literally–”_

_“I think you’re pretty arrogant, Saihara-chan.”_

_“What?”_

The detective shook his head and tried to speed up, but his knees kept buckling. _I shouldn’t keep hiding and running away from the inevitable like he does,_ he shouted at himself in his already noisy head.

Only two more flights and the thief is caught. If not by Shuichi, then by Kirigiri, who was even colder and crueler towards him. There was no way back, no way out, no emergency exit, nothing.

Saihara tried to imagine how the thief could be looking like right now. Might’ve figured out an escape plan already. Would try to distract him with those stupid emotions and feelings, as always, or mess with the detective’s head with his weird antics again. Shuichi knew his tricks more than he knew himself, too well to be fooled. The thief dug his own grave.

And he didn’t want to trust his enemy, right? He kept telling the detective how suspicious he was because he meant it, he kept pushing him away because he knew he’d end up like this, right? And he got so _hurt_ by their very last encounter because he realized how far they had gone, right?

Shuichi’s heart throbbed painfully in his shattered chest. He wanted to scream from all the pain he was feeling.

Why couldn’t he let that stupid guy suffer from the consequences of his own mistakes? Why, having decided to catch him, having promised that to Kirigiri, was he still in doubt? Why did his heart hurt, why were his eyes filled with tears, why were his legs so weak, _why, why, why?_

_“I don’t feel like you’re worth changing for. Did you really think you were that kind of person?”_

A door to the rooftop appeared in front of him. It was left half-opened, probably in a hurry, and a strong freezing blow of wind shoved the detective, making him shiver.

_“How do you still not understand? If you continue being like that…”_

Shuichi gasped as if he just realized something important. He remembered all the feelings and emotions the thief made him feel, and it filled his exhausted body with a dying breath of fresh air. Everything hurt, and everything made so much sense.

_“…You’ll end up alone, Ouma-kun. No one will ever want to stay by your side.”_

He stopped, staring at the door blankly.

No… this wasn’t right.

_Nothing was right._

His headset made another noise.

“Saihara, are you on the roof?” Kirigiri’s voice sounded… shaky. Probably because of the cold. “We can see him from here. He’s trying to escape. I’m going to send you a backup right now, can you distract him for a few minutes?”

Shuichi winced. Terror struck his body like a lightning, boiling the blood in his frozen veins.

“Saihara? Saihara!”

_No. No. He was making a big mistake. He was wrong. Oh god, he was terribly, terribly wrong, and he only realized it now._

But he had no other choice anymore. It was too late.

Shuichi fought a strong desire to howl like an injured animal and opened the door. A painfully familiar cape and a white costume were barely visible in the drizzling darkness, so the detective took out his phone and turned on a flashlight.

“Ouma-kun!”

Ouma’s shoulders jerked as he turned around. He wasn’t wearing his hat today, only the mask, dirty and wet from the awful weather. A sour, strained smile, more like a disgusting grin, crawled onto his pale face.

“Of course! Kirigiri’s pet is always with her. Don’t butt in while I’m fleeing the scene, please and thank you.”

His voice was the final straw. As soon as Shuichi heard it, he woke up from a long dream and began returning to the painful reality.

That voice always made his heart beat faster. Those eyes, looking at him with grudge and contempt, drove him crazy. Those hands, those lips– that person was truly the dearest to Saihara, that stubborn, secretive, suspicious, and distrusting person was his whole world. Shuichi had been ignoring his duties for him for so long, hiding him from the cops while knowing so much that he could’ve captured him plenty of times already, and he once again understood why. Thousands of thoughts, words, feelings that were contradicting and loud were spinning in his head, and Shuichi wanted to wait for at least a couple of minutes to figure out how to explain all of them, what to do now, how to save them–

“Ouma-kun,” he blurted out, watching the thief walk away and continue finishing his escape route. “I…”

“Saihara-san,” Kirigiri’s voice, suddenly soundless, made him stop and quickly swallow everything he was trying to say. “We received an order from Togami. An order to shoot him. Right now. Keep the flashlight aimed at him.”

The sound of someone loading a gun clicked in Shuichi’s ears. He breathed his lungs out, horrified.

“To shoot?!”

His vision got dark.

He repeated that, trying to shout loud enough for Ouma to hear and react, but the other guy was too busy attaching his bag of jewelry to the rope he prepared, having completely forgotten about the chase. As if on purpose, the wind got stronger, almost pushing Saihara down to his feet, and it was so loud up here that the sound of his voice barely reached the thief.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Surely, it was a mistake.

Panicking, Shuichi turned around, facing the rooftop where Kyoko was hiding. What was he supposed to do now? If he got closer to warn Kokichi, the police would notice, and they both would be in serious danger. But if he didn’t act at all…

“Wait!” he couldn’t even hear his own voice. “Why did they order to–”

“Saihara, please step back,” Kyoko kept talking, each sound slicing her colleague’s already wounded heart with their coldness, while Ouma straightened up, watching his stolen goods disappear in the dark fog. He didn’t seem to be worried in the slightest; of course, he was alone with his stupid, naïve detective, who would always try to start a conversation, get shy, get confused, let him go…

What to do? What to do? What to do? What to do? What to do?

_“I said wait!”_ he shouted with more force and anger, feeling his head heating. “We can’t–”

“This was an order. Three. Two…”

She wasn’t planning to stop.

Everything happened so suddenly and quickly. There was so little time left.

And he didn’t want to hesitate anymore.

With a furious roar, Saihara threw his phone away and hurried straight to the thief. When Kyoko muttered “one”, a faint bang, like from a popped balloon, appeared somewhere in the distance, and Ouma finally turned around, his purple eyes glowing with surprise and fear.

For a mere second, it felt like the whole world crashed around them.

The wind stopped, changing into a heavy hum in Shuichi’s ears as though he was drowning in a bottomless sea. He didn’t feel anything at first, scared that the bullet found its addressee, but then a flash of pain – poisonous, burning, unrealistically incomprehensible – shot through his body, and he dropped on the ground. Like a doll without a puppeteer.

His head hit the cold rooftop, and the headset flew off. The pain ran quickly through his each and every vein, each and every muscle, paralyzing, numbing, vivid, and malicious; the world disappeared into blurry, thick darkness with ruby circles all across it. The air wasn’t enough to breathe. Shuichi tried to desperately gasp for the remaining bits of it and realized that his mouth was full of blood.

And through all that horrible, painful chaos, a single thought squeezed into his dizzy head:

_The bullet was his._

Next – from afar, barely audible – the voice:

_“Shumai!”_

The warmth of someone else’s hands burned his shaking body. A dark veil in front of his eyes wouldn’t let him see anything but a blurry silhouette. Every breath he took made his stomach hurt. Shuichi realized that the bullet wasn’t aimed at the thief’s arm or leg – and that realization terrified him.

“Shit, Saihara-chan, what have you done?! Get up!” a cry pierced through his head. “Get up, you fucking idiot! _Please!_ ”

The pain was getting so strong that Shuichi was slowly getting used to it – or, rather, his feelings became numb, changing into the coldness and indifference of a corpse. Life was leaving his body. _“Am I going to die, I wonder?”_ he thought, chuckling bitterly to himself in his head.

Was he really going to die? Just like that?

He didn’t plan any of this. It was quite unsettling, to put it lightly. 

Another realization came to mind. Even though he ended up like this... _He was happy he made it on time._ He almost lost the dearest person to him, relying on some “common sense” and quick assumptions. He almost ruined the life of someone who made his own life better and full of emotions he didn’t know he could feel, who made each day unforgettable and unique, worth remembering. He almost killed the one who always risked everything for him just as much as he did. Who taught him how to love. Who taught him how to be free and confident in himself.

That’s why…

“Kokichi.”

Spending his last bits of strength on that name was the sweetest thing he had ever done. Shuichi had never called him by his first name before, and he regretted that a lot now. It felt so good on his lips, each sound of it was so sweet, it made his dying heart flutter so much! He would love to repeat it at least a million more times if he still had a chance. He had already wasted so many of them, after all.

A shaky sigh filled with terror and disappointment tickled his hair, and he felt Ouma’s small fingers on his cheeks.

“Shuichi, don’t do this to me,” the voice got quieter but even more desperate. “Don’t leave me, I won’t let you. I know you’re hurt, _I know,_ but you have to get up, okay? Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me alone. I don’t want you to die.”

Shuichi didn’t want to leave him and wanted to get up more than anything else in the world. The smell of his own blood thickened the air around him; he managed to blink away the blur that was distorting his vision, just to see Ouma’s terrified face – the one he’d never seen before and the one he would never see again.

He saw the other wiping the tears off his big purple eyes and cheeks, clenching his teeth and shaking all over, and his hand left a bloody print on his almost white skin. Shuichi also noticed blood on the sleeve of his stupid white jacket – with colorful buttons and a ripped collar, looking so adorable but so unsettling. Kokichi was covered in Saihara’s blood, and he was crying, and he was scared. It got even harder to breathe.

No, Saihara hadn’t said enough yet. He needed to hurry.

“I’m… sorry. For everything,” he didn’t expect to lose his voice already, and every little movement of his lips felt like he was lifting a dumbbell with his mouth. “I… shouldn't have said... those things to you. You never... have to change. I love you so much.”

He could only hope that Kokichi understood what he said because his vision got blurry and his ears got numb again. The pain was sucking the life out of him with the speed and force of a black hole; the more Shuichi realized he was going to fall asleep forever in such agony, the more anxious he felt.

Yet, there was something comforting to think about, something that eased his panicking brain a little. He wasn’t that afraid of death because he had finally done the right thing. Not cold loneliness, but warm small hands that he loved to hold in his own were letting him go, and it was probably the best finale he could wish for himself in this situation.

“Shumai, I’m sorry, _I’m so sorry,_ please don’t leave me alone! We’re gonna call an ambulance now, you’ll be fine, they’ll help you, okay?” he could barely make out what Ouma was screaming at him.

Hot tears were dripping on his face, mixing with the raindrops. Had the rain finally begun?

“I– I love you too, you shouldn’t have done this, Shumai, _I love you–_ ”

Shuichi’s ears started ringing and muffled all the remaining sounds before his heart could flutter painfully after a sudden but long-awaited confession. Even Kokichi’s desperate loud voice wasn’t reaching to him anymore. He tried to imagine the thief’s crying face, the horrified look in his eyes, and it only made him hurt worse, so he quickly drowned himself in memories instead.

He remembered how they fell in that stupid rooftop pool because Kokichi pushed him down and he grabbed his thigh belt while falling. He was so angry, and Ouma was so beautiful, and he laughed so much! That night, he felt something special towards him for the first time, watching him smile widely with his wet violet hair glowing and his adorable face glittering under the moonlight.

He remembered how they danced on the rooftops, on the streets, in his apartment, remembered each sunset and each sunrise they met together, each constellation they made out in the starry sky, each time he fell asleep lying next to Kokichi and woke up to the same sight of him, and how it made him the happiest person in the whole world.

So much had happened. So many exciting, wonderful things. As if Shuichi had lived through an entirely different life, tragically short but eventful, and it was enough to die with no regrets. He knew that his friends would be so depressed and that Kirigiri would never forgive herself, but he didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. He wanted to die while picturing the mischievous smirk that always made him blush and the big curious purple eyes that he was so fond of.

They had finally confessed their love to each other. It was enough for him to be satisfied.

_“But… I don’t want to be alone again, Saihara-chan.”_

A new flash of pain struck his stomach and his back as though he was pierced through with a spear and cut in a half, and it made his body soak into the ground helplessly. It was impossible to endure, but Saihara stubbornly bit his lip, forcing himself to keep up for a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a little bit in those arms, in that warmth.

Just a little longer with his beloved.

He managed to hear the distant noises of police sirens, and it made him flinch. _Kirigiri._ That’s right, there was another thing he needed to do before leaving.

Having gathered the last bits of life that were pouring out of his upper stomach, colored in bloody-red, he breathed out into the void:

“Run.”

An angry cry, a voice full of despair, fury, panic– Shuichi couldn’t understand a single word anymore.

“Run. Please… just run.” His lips got so dry that he couldn’t say anything else.

There was so much blood in his mouth. There was so much pain in every part of his body. There were no sounds, no light, no presence of Kokichi anymore. The detective was done for.

He slowly breathed the remnants of thick, pricky air out of his hurting lungs, and closed his already blind eyes.

_“That was a lie, though. You’re a total idiot if you ever believed me.”_

_“O-Ouma-kun, wait! Hold on!”_

He ran away that night. Kokichi. He just left, face blank, voice lost, all colors drained from his empty eyes.

And right now, he needed to run away once more.

Yes, Kokichi needed to stay uncaught, to keep on living, to control his secret organization and have fun with his subordinates. When the time comes, he would learn how to trust others and open up; he would find himself someone interesting and fun, someone as crazy and mischievous as him, and they would run around the city together, robbing the boutiques and exhibitions, making fun of rich people, having the time of their lives.

Kokichi… was destined to be happy.

And Shuichi was glad to be a part of his story.

With that on his mind, he let himself fall into the void full of paralyzing, agonizing pain, until it disappeared just like the rest of the world, leaving him alone with the complete darkness.

_“Farewell, Saihara-chan.”_

The detective Saihara Shuichi died in the arms of the Phantom Thief.

***

The sunset pours its gentle light into the room, painting it pink and orange. The walls, the pictures and photographs on them, the plants, the cushions on the floor – everything is glittering like gold, feeling surprisingly warm for the usual cold February air. The TV screen gets dark, with white lines of text quickly running through it, and two cherry-red static shadows begin to move in this glowing light.

“Kokichi… are you crying?”

Shuichi was so invested in the story that he didn’t notice the smaller body trembling lightly in his arms. His mind goes back from the fictional reality to the present, and all senses return to him as if reviving his numb, breathless body. He feels the familiar sweet smell of chocolates and tea embracing him just as tightly as he’s hugging his beloved. The shared warmth of their bodies covers him like a soft blanket – cozy, lovely, relaxing. All tension from the just-finished movie melts in this warmth in a mere second.

A muffled sob and a tiny wet drop on Shuichi’s hand confirm his guess.

“Of course not! I’m just super-mad they killed the sexy detective like that! Why did they need all that cheesy drama?”

Yep, Kokichi is definitely crying. It can be easily heard in his exaggeratedly loud, faltering voice. He might’ve been self-projecting onto the movie as well. Saihara lets out a soft chuckle, catching the other’s ear with his lips and nipping at it lightly. He feels small fingers brushing against the skin on his own, wiping the tears off. How sneaky.

“They needed a dramatic ending,” he explains and tightens his embrace even more, hands wrapping strongly around Ouma’s sunken belly. “I’ve heard the director made that movie for their very good friend who absolutely loves this kind of stuff.”

Kokichi fidgets in his arms.

“Why did you pick this movie to watch specifically on Valentine’s Day, then?!” he whines. “I was hoping it would end with a _steamier_ final scene and set the mood–”

“ _You_ were the one who picked it, Kokichi. You said the characters reminded you of us in a way.”

Shuichi rests his chin on the other’s stiff shoulder, catching the tiny golden teardrops with the tip on his nose while brushing it against the wet cheek. To be fair, he also can’t help but imagine them in this situation: being rivals separated by the law, facing all those crazy moral dilemmas, and fighting for love against all odds, until the bitter end. The argument that the characters had before the final scene – about truth and lies, trust and doubt – has left a faint but tangible heaviness on his heart.

It’s not exactly something he’d want to fill his head with on such a romantic, lighthearted day, but as long as Kokichi is busy desperately wiping the tears off his face, he might as well think about it a little more.

“Hey Kichi,” he mumbles, lips tickling the other’s skin. “Just so you know… I love you just the way you are. You’re perfect for me. I’ve never wanted to change you.”

Ouma’s breath hitches and his movements stop. This remark must've gotten to him. “I-I know, duh!” he snorts reluctantly. “If you ever wanted to change me, I wouldn’t let you get away with such selfishness. You would be _dead_ , Shuichi. Dead!”

_Someone would certainly like that turn of events,_ Shuichi thinks to himself, unsure of what it could mean.

“After this movie, I don’t think I want to end up like that,” he murmurs into his boyfriend’s ear and watches with playful satisfaction how it turns red, along with his cheeks. All Kokichi can do in response is pout. He seems to be secretly enjoying this tenderness.

“I know my Shumai wouldn’t die on me,” his wet lips smack while he mumbles. “But… what do you think the thief did? Did he run away?”

“Hm? The thief?”

Shuichi stops, eyes fixed on the other’s fluttering eyelashes glittering in the warm rose light. The last scenes from the movie play in his head on fast rewind – blurry, dark-grey, rough. The director did a good job on making those believable; Saihara felt like he was dying for real. The thief’s face and voice were barely recognizable, and the closer it was to the end, the less he could make out of that chaos, feeling chills running down his spine.

Did the thief escape, really?

If he didn’t, it means the police caught him in the end. It means he stayed there, on the roof, crying over a bleeding dead body of his rival and secret lover. If he did run away, though, he could return to his organization that he cherished so much, grieve over his beloved, and then… move on?

Shuichi tried to put himself in the thief’s shoes for a moment but quickly smothered the thought. It was unbearable. The choice was unrealistically hard. Would he rather end up in jail, exposing the truth, or would he take it away with himself, trying to live like he used to?

He subconsciously grabs Kokichi by his hands and squeezes them in his.

“I don’t know, love,” he hums, trying to sound and look placid. “Both choices kinda suck.”

“They do!” his beloved snickers. “What an awful situation, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t seem to be that affected by the ending after all, at least not anymore. Saihara decides to mimic his attitude and lets out a chuckle of his own. They change their position; Ouma curls into his boyfriend’s lap like a lazy cat, and the latter meets eyes with him, gently brushing the wild hair from his still swollen face. The setting sun plays on his skin, lips, in his deep purple gaze, makes them sparkle and glitter and so difficult to look away from. Kokichi is more breathtaking than a rare view, even after crying.

However, his smile is a little weak for someone who’s enjoying himself in his boyfriend’s sweet embrace. He’s glaring at something that is far, far away from here, probably stuck in that gloomy fictional universe.

“Though if I were the thief,” he whispers absently, “I would definitely stay.”

He sounds so confident that Shuichi’s heart skips a beat.

“You would?”

“You wouldn’t?”

Now they’re staring at each other, a thief in one’s eyes and a detective in the other’s. Shuichi blinks, and suddenly, the answer becomes perfectly clear. The movie scenes merge with the memories, all filled with emotions and feelings he has experienced ever since he met Ouma. Years of figuring him out, searching for the hidden truth while it was right next to him, sneering mischievously and pinching his cheeks, building trust, working up the courage to confess, and happiness that has never disappeared up until this day…

He would never want to run away and move on from any of it.

“I… If it were you, I would.”

Kokichi's lips twitch in a satisfied devilish grin, but Shuichi can notice how adoring and tender his glare got.

“Of course,” the shorter guy giggles. Small hands land on Saihara’s cheeks, bringing their faces closer. His sweet Valentine chocolate breath tickles the other’s nose. “We would never leave each other, right?”

Shuichi hugs him tighter, and their lips touch.

“Never.”

The credits stop rolling.

**Author's Note:**

> *gets up from the floor* IT'S A LIE! Scold me Hina!! but no Shuichi deaths on Valentine's Day!! 
> 
> me x bad endings are a decent rarepair,,, but not really my cup of tea. I hope I got you in the first half, at least! and that the experience wasn't too much of a disappointment or a mess.
> 
> also, have you guys read The Mushroom Saga? no??? what a shame. I can't believe you're still in the dark about this. you should definitely check it out on Hina's profile, and the sooner the better!
> 
> stay safe, and never leave your thieves or detectives <3


End file.
